In the Order it was Received
by Anna James McGloffin
Summary: Another day, another dollar on the tech support line.


_No real reason behind this drabble other than I needed a laugh. Have one, too. Set during movie 4 with Don's tech support job._

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><p>"My dog won't stop pooping on the carpet that I paid $1000 for off of that amputee stripper!"<p>

Donatello, the technician on the phone and making good use of the palm-to-the-forehead gesture, wished he was on a firey plane nosediving into this guy's house. The crawling hour scratched his nerves, and he had another five to go with no break. Tomorrow, it'll be the same tune droning in his ears again.

"Sir, you might want to call animal control then." His tongue clicked against his teeth before he knew it. Whoops. He sort of needed this job but oh well.

Client with a relationship problem babbled, "For the dog?"

"Thank you for calling PEBKAC computer support," Don threw his little ball of rage on his tongue, "and have a nice, poop free day."

Before Don ended the call he heard a "...tell that to the mutt!"

Three empty bottles of red-plastered soda shifted on his desk as his knee slammed under it during another frustration burst. He needed a few seconds of meditation before switching on the next call, already buzzing in his headset. If only he could find the humor in his pathetic IT phone support but it wore off on day two. It didn't help that the support number was two digits away from a suicide hotline. Those were always interesting nights. He hadn't the heart to change the number in case someone needed saving.

It beat the heck out of moments like the previous caller!

Pushing the 'answer' button needed to be illegal. "Hello, thank you for calling PEBKAC. I'm your friendly IT support, Don, and how may I assist you this evening?" He might as well have been swallowing angry bees.

"I bought this software and it's too hard to use. Make it easier!" Great. This client must have felt his anger through the phone and decided to use it, too. Both of them could be lovely angry friends together complaining about software and brothers who don't help enough around the house.

Donatello squeezed a yellow stress ball on his desk, imagining being on the beach somewhere, sipping a martini. "I am sorry that you're having problems with the software. What is showing on your screen at the moment?"

There was a dull roar in the background. Was he inside a lion's den? A couple of fast taps later, Client heavily sighed, "Nothing's happening! What's wrong with it! I've been messing with this stupid sh-, I mean, THING, for an hour! Why can't things be easier anymore? Back in the day, we didn't have computers and all of this mumbo jumbo and..."

So at that point, Don wanted to say 'why don't we go back to thumping two rocks together and making fire then?' but instead, his lips tightened and the search for sunshine in a dark cloud of stupidity continued, "I'll be glad to help make this easier for you, sir. Please tell me what you are trying to do and we can go from there."

During the roundabout conversation that resulted in one soda bottle being demolished, Raphael stumbled in, and Don only caught him in the corner of his eye. Raph's lips moved but Don only heard the client's colorful words falling out of it. He shooed away Raph, and sullen footsteps faded in the background. Something might have crashed, too, but he couldn't tell from all of the jabbering blowing out of the ear piece.

By the fourth attempt, Irate Client dismissed what patience he had left, which wasn't much to begin with, and barked loudly into the phone, completely distorting his voice, "I schwicked, I schwicked! Pold bon! Shwink -thing is WORKing!" Don idly moved the earpiece over so he could actually understand the garble and avoid the puffs.

"I think I broke it," Client returned like a dog with its tail between its legs and with much less distortion, "I don't see anything on the screen now."

Don hit the mute button and had a short chuckle. What was that on his face? A smile? "Your computer manufacturer would be able to provide technical support tailored to your equipment. Plus, if you still have warranty, it's free."

"Uh, I'm not sure if-"

"Thank you for calling PEBKAC and have a nice day." Click.

Finally, a moment of silence for the weary, Don rubbed his temples, and it took no time for the line to get hot again. Beaches, martinis, fluffy dogs catching frisbees, and bikinis flew through his mind. Pink bikinis that asks where do you work and he answers happily, PEBKAC; with their pretty eyes and bouncy breasts, they smile their question to him, what does that mean, stud muffin? And he flashes back, problem exists between keyboard and chair. Cue girly laughter at his intellectual manliness.

Boom. Back to reality now, Donatello.

"Hello, thank you for calling PEBKAC. I'm your friendly IT support, Don, and how may I assist you this evening?"

"Are you in America?" a Southern accent obnoxiously asked.

One of those callers, Don sighed. "Yes, madam. How may I assist you this evening?"

"You sound like a yankee. Can I have someone from the South?"

He tapped the top of a pen against his desk, drumming it to the rhythm of his snarky thoughts. "I'm unable to grant your request straight away. You're more than welcome to step back into the queue until you reach the desired person or accent." But you're gonna wait for two hours or more, woman! Muhahaha!

"I guess you'll do," Client relented; she readjusted the phone and Don just knew she was getting ready to make this complicated. "My name is JoAnn Nell Davidson, and I have a problem with this here thang. My daughter Betty Ann Sue Nell Davidson don't know nothing, bless her peabrain; she got it from her daddy and he got it from fighting in 'Nam and sleeping with one of them Asian folks. Sorry if you're Asian but I'm telling it like it is."

At least he got paid by the hour, the poor green tech support guy slumped in his chair. Something soft bounced off the back of his head. He heard some snickering and a yellow nerf ball rolled by his feet. Instead of seeing his brothers' goofy grins at the doorway, he stuffed it in one of the empty bottles and lunged it back to them without looking.

JoAnn Nell Davidson's rattler continued, "So her daddy got this machine about a year ago and he dudn't know how to work it. Just like everything else, as well as our marriage, I have to do it all like a wonder woman. You ever feel like you're forced to do something everyday in your life? I want to be a professional tuba player but I like to chain smoke and my breathing is all messed up. I got that from my grandpa when he used to work in the mines and-"

"Madam! I'm going through a tunnel right now so we might get-" Click. People like her wouldn't question whether phone support was mobile or not. He was at the end of his rope and still four hours to go. Phone fired up again. For the next call, Don wanted to put someone through his kind of Hell.

"Hello, thank you for calling PEBKAC. I'm your friendly IT support, Don, and I'm a giant mutant turtle. How may I assist you this evening?"

"Man, they'll employ anything these days, won't they! As long as you help me with my problem, I don't care."


End file.
